


Hard Night

by IneffableFangirl_writes



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, character death (canon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableFangirl_writes/pseuds/IneffableFangirl_writes
Summary: Takes place during "Sein und Zeit", S7E10. Hurt/comfort. Missing scene.Taken from the backlog of fic on my computer, presented by quarantine.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Hard Night

“Your mother killed herself, Mulder.”

Scully is saying more words, an explanation that he processes as hot tears begin to spill from his eyes. He bends in half, crumpling on himself and she holds him. Small and delicate though she is, she holds his larger frame as he shakes with sobs. She presses her forehead to his and they sit that way for a moment. Something about her forehead resting against his own is comforting in a deep way, the way a child feels safe in their own bed at night, security blanket under one arm. The calm before the storm fades though, and his chest quakes again. Oh God.

His head is in her lap and her fingers are running through his hair in gentle strokes. She’s not talking now, just making soft sounds. 

“Shhhh,” she murmurs, moving her hand from his hair to rub his back. Her other arm is curled around him. She does not say that it is okay or that it will be okay. She knows him too well. 

“Shhhhhhhhh.”

When he has no more tears to cry, only shuddering dry sobs, she coaxes him into drinking a glass of water sip by sip. She never breaks contact unless it is absolutely necessary; her hand lingers on his arm, his back, his leg, anything to remind him that she is there. 

“You’ve had a long day, Mulder. Let’s get you into bed.”

Any other night he might make a joke about her getting in with him, but he merely shakes his head. 

“Not tired.” His voice is raspy, strained.

She doesn’t call him on the lie, doesn’t remind him of his drooping eyelids and the exhausted way he holds himself, like all of his limbs are weighted.

“A shower then.”

He nods slowly, shuffles into the bathroom without closing the door. She hovers in the doorway, watching him stare at the shower knobs like he has never seen them before. His arms hang limp at his sides, useless. 

Quietly, she comes into the bathroom behind him, turns on the shower and tests the temperature of the water before closing the curtain. He blinks at her slowly, his eyes wet and tired. He looks so lost. 

_ Shock _ , she thinks. She removes his clothes one item at a time and he lets her, passively allowing her to move his limbs as she pleases. Babies put up more of a struggle than Mulder does. Once naked, she helps him into the shower.

Spray pours down on him as he stands motionless. Taking a washcloth from beneath the sink, Scully rolls her sleeves up and wets it, then rubs a bar of soap over the terrycloth. 

“Arm,” she prompts softly and he offers it to her. She rubs the soapy washcloth over it before requesting the other arm. Then one leg at a time. His chest. His back. His neck and behind his ears. She tells him to close his eyes and she washes his hair, her shirtsleeves soaked.

She dries him with a towel. He seems to be regaining some awareness and he dresses himself in boxers, pajama bottoms, and a white t-shirt. He needs a little help and she gives it to him without saying a word. He’s in the bedroom anyway so she has him sit down, then lie down as she sits beside him, one hand holding his hand, the other rubbing long, slow circles on his back. 

He sleeps for scraps of time, wakes up with a jolt, and she watches his face as the realization hits him all over again. He cries again and she dries his tears, holds his hand. After the third wake-up he speaks, rasping only two words.

“Scully...please?” 

He lifts the edge of the covers and she toes off her shoes, exchanges her damp shirt for one of the t-shirts in his drawer. Lying down next to him, he buries his face in her neck, clings to her like a lifeline. They sleep. He wakes, jolting her awake as well. She watches the confusion, the realization, the shock and sorrow all cross his face again. She holds him as he cries, lets him hold her as he falls back asleep.

When Skinner comes in the morning, she has removed Mulder’s borrowed shirt and put her own back on. He is asleep on his bed still, calm again. She gets up, answers the door.

“He had a hard night,” she says when he asks. 

And when Skinner gives her news of the mother of little Amber Lynn and her message, Mulder is behind her. His eyes are tired, his face still showing the marks of tears. She tries to say no for him, but Skinner has already made up his mind. So she goes along instead.

She can’t leave him alone, not now.

Not ever.


End file.
